


To be by your side

by IndigoDream



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Getting Together, Gifts, Idiots in Love, M/M, Modern Continent (The Witcher), Mutual Pining, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier have known each other since their first college days. Now, almost fifteen years later, they still live together, and raise Geralt's daughter together. Although, they are only best friends... Right?Geralt has been keeping his feelings to himself for a long time, but when Jaskier gives him a gift for Winter Solstice, he reconsiders his stance.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 228
Collections: The Witcher Secret Santa 2020





	To be by your side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MajorTrouble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorTrouble/gifts).



> Hello! 
> 
> This is a gift for [major-trouble](https://major-trouble.tumblr.com/) for the Secret Santa exchange! This is modern au, because i couldn't get my words to make something dark :') I hope you'll enjoy it!

Vacations, in Geralt and Jaskier’s shared apartment, are always a mess. Leaving either of them alone has proven, if not fatal, at least unwise in many, many ways. They both have too much of a workaholic tendency. Geralt, if left alone, will spend hours in the private office next to his bedroom that Jaskier kindly let him have when they had moved into the apartment after their university years were done. Jaskier, when Geralt decides to take Ciri on a vacation, or decides to visit his family up north, tends to spend hours in the small recording studio he rents upstairs, tweaking and playing his music over and over again, until he falls asleep in front of whichever instrument he is currently obsessing over. 

They have a good life together though, and Geralt is glad to have such a good roommate. Sure, many people would say that at thirty-three, he should have an apartment of his own, but Geralt likes leaving with Jaskier. He is his best friend, at everyone’s surprise, and they balance each other out. On top of that, Jaskier adores Geralt’s daughter, who adores him right back. 

Ciri had moved in with them six years ago, when her parents had died in a boat wreck on the coast of Cintra. Pavetta and Duny had asked Geralt to be the girl’s guardian, and while Calanthe, Pavetta’s mother, had tried to fight it, Ciri had decided to stay with Geralt regardless. Nowadays, she spends all her holidays at her grandmother’s estate, running around and riding horses, learning to fight and do all the things she rarely has an occasion to do in the city outside of her lessons. 

Which is why Geralt is both relieved and nervous as he walks back up to his apartment. He plays with his keys with one hand while texting Ciri with the other, making sure that she is well arrived at Calanthe’s. Of course, she is. The trip only takes an hour and a half, and Geralt had left her at the train station over two hours ago, right before he had driven Jaskier to the airport, on the other side of the city. That’s the only unfortunate thing about their apartment, Geralt thinks as he puts the keys in the lock. They are over an hour and a half away from Cintra’s airport, and they are both in need to go there quite regularly. 

His phone rings just as he pushes the door open, and he frowns down. The screen indicates Jaskier as the caller, and he feels a ball of anxiety form in his stomach. Was Jaskier’s flight cancelled? Is there something wrong going on? They don’t call much, what with living together and both working mostly from home. If they need something from the other, it’s easier to go bother the other in his office. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier calls out, half-panicked, and this does nothing to distract Geralt from his anxious thoughts, “You’ve got to help me!”

“What’s going on?” Geralt is already locking back the door, walking to the stairs quickly. “Are you alright?” 

“Listen I just- Promise you won’t laugh.” 

Geralt stops halfway through the stairs and nearly falls down face first. He knows this tone. He groans loudly. 

“Jaskier, what did you do?” 

The musician makes an offended noise. “I would have you know I did only what was needed and-“ 

“Jaskier.” 

“Fine! Promise not to laugh though.” 

Groaning again, Geralt leans against one of the walls. “Alright, alright. I promise. Now spit it out, damn it.” 

“I left my hair product in a..” Jaskier mumbles so low after this that Geralt can’t hear. 

“Speak up, Jask.” 

“I left my hair products in a bush next to the security,” Jaskier whisper-yells through the phone. “I forgot that it was in my backpack and it was too late to bring it back to be checked in, and they wouldn’t let me pass through security until I threw it out, so I hid it in a plant next to the security post! Happy now?” 

Geralt has to close his eyes and count until twenty to not laugh. This is so very _Jaskier_ that he can’t help the fond smile that reaches his lips. It is moments like those that reminds him of how much he loves Jaskier. 

It isn’t new, the feeling swirling in his chest, the love and tenderness and general affection for Jaskier he has. Back in university, when they had been sharing a dorm, there had been a few moments when Geralt had thought that maybe, something between them would happen… But no. Since then, they have both dated around, each having their own serious relationships, but none of them had led to anything more than a year or two of dating before turning back to being good friends. 

Since his breakup with Yennefer two years ago, Geralt hadn’t dated anyone. Her words as she had told him things between them were over had stayed with him for a long time, and he had ended up calling her three months after their breakup to ask her what she had meant by saying she refused to be in a relationship with someone whose heart belonged to someone else already. 

Naturally, Yennefer being herself, she had laughed in his face. “You mean you still haven’t talked to him?” 

At his confusion, she had rolled her eyes and then had proceeded to explain to him that he, Geralt Rivia, was, and had been for quite a time, in love with Jaskier. While it hadn’t necessarily blown his mind, it had definitely reminded him of his feelings, and ever since, he had been thinking about ways to tell Jaskier, or to move on properly or-

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice brings him back to the present and he startles. 

“Right, yeah. What the hell do you want me to do about that?” 

“Well…” Jaskier drags the last letter and Geralt can feel the request coming. Ciri has taken after him in that, and Geralt hates how absolutely fond he is that his daughter is so comfortable around Jaskier. “You are my very best friend in the whole wide world, and I know you would absolutely hate knowing that I lost such a precious possession when you could have helped me and-“ 

“Cut it out Jaskier,” Geralt rolls his eyes. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Could you get it back please? It cost me so much! And it’s definitely one of my favourite products. You know how I am about my hair, Geralt. I can’t lose one of those products! I bought it only two days ago so I won’t need it for the vacations, so you could leave it in the bathroom?” 

“Jaskier.” Geralt pinches his nose, trying to keep his cool. “Are you asking me to drive back to the airport and then dig through whichever bush you hid it in to find you some damn hair product?” 

There is a second of hesitation before Jaskier answers a small “yes,” and Geralt tilts his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He knows he is going to say yes, regardless of what he is thinking now. He has rarely been able to say no to Jaskier, especially not when his friend takes this soft, kicked-puppy tone. Gods, the musician really knows how to best manipulate him.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Geralt attempts to fight against his own impulse to let Jaskier have his way. “Just, go to see your sister and I’ll get you a new one for when you come back.” 

“But I already bought this one! And the store said it was a special edition for Winter Solstice!” Jaskier is half-begging now and Geralt sighs heavily. “Please?” 

Geralt groans loudly, and Jaskier makes a small triumphant noise that he tries to pretend is a cough, but they know each other too well for that now. 

“Fine,” Geralt says finally. “I’ll get it for you. But you owe me big, Jask.” 

“You’re a real darling,” Jaskier says excitedly. “You’ll find it easily, it’s the only bush with yellow flowers! I thought you would have an easier time finding it this way. You won’t have to search as much for it!” 

“You knew I would say yes,” Geralt sighs as he walks down the rest of the stairs. “You are a menace, you know that?” 

“They don’t call me Julian Alfred Pankratz for nothing,” Jaskier laughs over the phone. 

“No one calls you that,” Geralt deadpans, only to hear more of Jaskier’s laughter. “I’m at the car, I’ll be there in an hour and a half. When does your plane leave?” 

Jaskier hums and Geralt takes that time to get settled in the car, although it hasn’t had much time to cool down yet. Affectionately nicknamed Roach, Geralt’s car is the one Jaskier uses as well on days he needs to go by car anywhere. They split most of the costs, and have never really considered having their own car. Costs are lesser at two, and Geralt is trying to save up for Ciri, despite Calanthe saying she could pay for anything her granddaughter needs. 

“In an hour or so,” Jaskier answers finally, and Geralt can hear from his tone that he is chewing on his lower lip, teeth biting into his flesh ever so slightly. He has an habit of doing this whenever he is particularly invested in something, whether by worry or excitement. 

“It’s a two hours flight to Novigrad, right?” 

“Yup, and then an hour long ride to Oxenfurt, where Renfri is picking me up. You’d think she would come all the way to that shithole of Novigrad to get her favourite brother who made time in his extremely busy schedule to come see her but no!” 

“You are her only brother.” Geralt does his best to not laugh as he puts the phone on speaker mode before starting the car. “And she’s already picking you up in Oxenfurt, an hour away from where she works.” 

“Ugh, I can’t believe I let you become friend with my _sister_ ,” Jaskier groans over the phone. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

“You’re being a brat,” Geralt chuckles as he starts driving. “Of course I’m going to side with Renfri. I have a younger brother too.” 

“Don’t compare me to Lambert,” Jaskier says, mock offended. “Now don’t get me wrong, I love your brother, but come on. You know we are very different.” 

Geralt hums. “Yeah, you’re right. Lambert is much less bratty compared to you.” 

Jaskier gasps, offended, and they keep chatting and teasing each other until he has to board his plane. The car feels too empty without his voice, and Geralt sighs. He hates this hollow feeling in his chest whenever he misses Jaskier, the way he feels like he is missing an essential part of himself. After all, they are just friends, even if Geralt has feelings for him. He shouldn’t miss him so much, shouldn’t feel like half of the world’s sunlight has gone away with him. 

(The other half is always with Ciri. Geralt loves his daughter, loves her so much he can’t believe he had tried to refuse to be her guardian when her parents had asked at her birth. Cirilla Riannon is the best thing that has ever happened to Geralt Rivia, and while he wishes that the girl still had her parents, he is glad she has found a home with him.)

By the time he parks - for the second time that day - at the airport, he has taken to humming Jaskier’s songs under his breath. He hadn’t wanted to switch the radio on, since Ciri had left it on her rather loud pop music, and he still hasn’t quite figured how to switch it to his own favourite radio. Jaskier describes the songs Geralt listens to as “old man country” but Geralt likes all the nature and the nostalgia present in the songs. 

Walking through the airport shouldn’t be as weird as it feels right now, and yet, Geralt feels as if everyone is staring at him. He knows it isn’t true, but the sensation of wrongness stays with him. Geralt isn’t like Jaskier, he doesn’t like the spotlight, doesn’t enjoy having people’s eyes on him. 

The walk isn’t long to the security’s desks, and it takes him only a few more seconds to spot the bush with yellow flowers that Jaskier described. There is a family sitting on a bench in front of it. He cringes internally. 

“Excuse me?” He says this in the least threatening voice he can muster, but Jaskier has always told him that his growl was threatening to anyone who didn’t already know him. “I just have to… reach in that plant? A friend left uh. His shampoo there.” 

The mother of the family looks at him, amused, and she gets up. “Your friend seems quite amusing.” 

Geralt snorts a bit as the youngest boy of the family jumps down the bench and looks up at him. “Interesting is one of the many words used to describe him, yes.”

“Is it white for real?” The boy asks, tugging on Geralt’s hoodie. “Your hair, is it really white?” 

The mother tuts, but Geralt smiles as he looks down at the boy. “Yeah. I was born like that, all white hair and yellow eyes.” 

“It’s really pretty!” The boy says. 

He must be nearing five years old, Geralt thinks as he looks at the boy. Granted, he doesn’t have a great record with knowing children ages; Ciri had moved in with him when she had been nine, and he had had a hard time remembering her age for a few weeks. It had been hard for him to forget the last image he had of her, at six years old riding a pony higher than her and looking very determinate as she urged it ahead. 

“Thanks,” Geralt smiles again. “My daughter thinks so too.” 

“Does your daughter have your white hair too?” The boy’s sister pipes up from the other side of the bench, and Geralt chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s sad!” 

“Not really,” Geralt says as his hand closes around a small container that he knows well. This is from Jaskier’s favourite brand, _Chameleon_ , and there are containers and bottles of products of that mark all around their apartment. “She looks a lot like her mother, so she has darker hair.” 

The two children hums loudly, a bit of a frown on their face as they nod. Geralt chuckles again fondly. He had forgotten how amusing and serious children could be at once. He hadn’t thought about having children before Ciri, but since he has her in his life, the thought of having a larger family has come into his mind a few times. 

“It seems like you got what you were looking for,” the mother comments, pointing at the bag in Geralt’s hand. “You should go back to your friend now, I’m sure he can’t wait to get back his products.” 

Geralt smiles and nods. “Thanks ma’am. And sorry for the bother.” 

“Nonsense.” She waves away his apology, a smile on her lips. “I’m sure Jaskier will enjoy the story.” 

At the use of Jaskier’s name, Geralt frowns. “How did you-“ 

“Oh, I’m sorry, my wife is a huge fan of your friend, and she follows him on his social medias, and he has a few pictures of you up there too. I recognized you from that, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” 

“And you knew I was here for Jaskier because…?” Geralt asks, still a bit suspicious. He has had a few runs in with some of Jaskier’s nastier fans and he would hate for it to happen in front of the two children. 

“Ah, yes,” the woman chuckles slightly again and takes out her phone from her pocket. “If you don’t mind, I would like to show you something ? My wife sent me a screenshot about two hours ago right before taking her flight back home.” 

Geralt nods, feeling a little less suspicious as the woman extends him her phone, her thumb covering the camera. 

“So you don’t think I’m trying to film you,” she winks, her tone soft despite the teasing. 

On her phone, Geralt sees a screenshot of one of Jaskier’s tweet. The small picture of his friend, he knows it well. He had been the one to take it, in fact, one day Jaskier had been sunbathing in his bedroom, despite it being the middle of winter. The fond smile Jaskier had given him when he had noticed Geralt with his camera had been worth being called an old man for taking the picture with an old style camera. 

The screenshot shows a series of emojis, most of them heart faces, and in between a few of them, Jaskier has written, _“When you know your bf(f) has your back and you make him drive back to the airport, just to trick him into finding his solstice gift”_ , and another tweet underneath has _“He wouldn’t allow me to give him anything this year, the moron”_ with a broken heart and an eyeroll emojis. 

Geralt flushes slightly. “Oh.” 

The woman grins and pats his hand as she takes back her phone. “Yes, oh.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course darling,” she says with a shrug, as if she didn’t completely throw Geralt’s world sideway. 

“Mama!” One of the three kids yells and runs into a woman’s extended arms a few meters away, tearing Geralt away from his contemplations.

“You better go,” the first woman nudges Geralt. I’m sure you have a lot of things to think about.” 

“Right,” Geralt nods. “Thank you.” 

“You’ve already said that,” the woman laughs and pushes him back towards the exit gently. “Do me a favour though, will you? Just hear that man out when he finally confesses to you. Poor boy has been pining for what feels like years.” 

Geralt can only nod dumbly before walking away, holding in his hand the small bag in which Jaskier’s product waits. It isn’t until he is sitting again in his car, staring at his hands on the wheels, that he realizes what happened and what it means. 

If the woman is right, Jaskier loves Geralt too. Jaskier has been _pining_ over Geralt. It’s not possible though. Geralt would have noticed. Jaskier and him spend as much of their free time together as possible, except if there are other plans with friends coming up. Though, Jaskier comes with Geralt to his meeting with his old friends from his boxing days once a month. He gets along splendidly with Roche, which had been a bit of surprise, because the man is a right bastard, despite all of Geralt’s affection for him.

Jaskier _loves_ him. Well. Assumedly so. There _had_ been the “bf(f)” thing though. What did it even mean? Geralt has a vague awareness of shorthand speech, mostly through Ciri and Jaskier. He himself only rarely uses social medias. Ciri had explained to him that “gf” and “bf” meant, respectively, “girlfriend” and “boyfriend”, which he had been glad that she had explained because her text of _“Do you have a gf? Or a bf?”_ had startled him about a year ago. “Bff” he knew, but what did Jaskier meant exactly when he said “bf(f)”? And what if it weren’t about Geralt? 

His phone buzzed in his hand, a text from Ciri appearing on the screen. Opening it, he sighed. 

_“So, did you and Jaskier finally hook up or ??”_

He groans at his daughter’s choice of word. “ _Jaskier and I are only friends, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”_

_“Pls, everyone knows you two are into each other. I thought you would get together way before tho. Wasn’t he taking the plane?”_

Again, he groans and lets his head fall down on his wheel. He accidentally presses his head against the wrong part of the wheel, a loud, echoing honking noise resounding throughout the parking. 

_“Stop saying nonsense. I thought your grandma didn’t like when you had your phone out during the day?”_

_“She and Eist are making eyes at each other and Ermion is showing me magic tricks. I can’t ride today :(“_

He keeps texting her for a few minutes, his heart slowing down from the maddening beat it had picked up to a more usual rhythm. When she stops texting, having spontaneously decided to go swim in the heated pool, he sighs, finding himself alone with his thoughts again. Next to him, Jaskier’s bag sits on the front seat, almost taunting him to open it. 

Winter Solstice is four days away. Jaskier will be back two days after that, and then five days after that, Geralt will pick up Ciri from Calanthe’s home to go spend the new year with his family in Kaedwen. Should he wait until Jaskier and him are back in the same apartment for longer than a handful of days to open the bag? And why did Jaskier even buy him anything? Geralt had been specific. He didn’t want anything, he had thought he had been clear about that. Jaskier had already gotten him an expensive old camera for his birthday, three weeks ago, and this wasn’t anything he had asked for and-

It didn’t matter. Knowing Jaskier, it was something that had made him think of Geralt, and that was exactly why he had bought it, and had simply waited for a somewhat acceptable time to give it to him. The very thought of it warms Geralt to his core, almost making him blush. And he thought he couldn’t fall even more in love with Jaskier.

The small bag is back in his lap before he can even really think about it. After all, Jaskier had him pick it up at the airport, and Geralt knows his friend. Jaskier is forgetful, yes, but he also would have had plenty occasion to annoy Geralt into finding his gift on the day of the Solstice. So it’s safe to assume that Jaskier won’t mind if Geralt opens it now, rather than later. 

Carefully, his fingers pry open the edges of the brown bag. Nervousness flutters in his stomach, and he stops himself from looking immediately. This is just a gift. They give each other things all the time. Geralt had given him an old sweatshirt not a week ago, when Jaskier had complained about having lost all his own from university.There is nothing shocking about this gift in particular, nothing that should make Geralt half shake in anticipation. 

He peeks and, expectedly, he finds one of the black containers from _Chameleon_ that litters their apartment. This one is a bit different though. There is a design on it, although Geralt knows for certain that usually they don’t have any. (He knows because more than once he has brought a product to Jaskier that was “obviously not the right one, aren’t you paying attention, Geralt?”) 

The point is, this one is different. There is an engraving of a wolf, all in white, except for its eyes. Just like Geralt’s own eyes, the wolf’s irises are yellow. Though, those ones are more golden than anything else. There is nothing else in the bag, not a note or a little slip of paper, not even a card from Jaskier, and Geralt feels a bit disappointed. What if this is the wrong bag? 

It can’t be though. Jaskier had starting calling Geralt a white wolf back in their university days. He had poked fun at Geralt, saying that his behaviour was wolfish enough to have him be related to the wild creatures roaming Kaedwen’s mountains. It had stuck afterwards, enough that Geralt had made the logo of his company a wolf. Jaskier had even taken the joke as far as to referring to Geralt’s family as the wolves. Unfortunately, Lambert had loved it so much he had named the family groupchat exactly that, and had refused to change it for the last four years. 

He turns over the container and finds a paper taped to the bottom of it, his name written in what is undeniably Jaskier’s messy scrawl.

_With all my love, for my white wolf._

Jaskier has signed the little note with a heart and a J, and Geralt’s heart speeds up again. Jaskier has never before signed with a heart. A flower, sure, a few notes of music, yes. But a heart? He keeps those for his partners. So if he has put this on a gift for Geralt, it seems rational to assume that he intends to have Geralt as his partner. 

Geralt looks at the note over and over, and then at the container, and his heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to burst out of his ribcage and leave him completely lifeless. Still, at some point he manages to calm himself down enough to be rational again. He has to drive home, or the parking fee will be out of this world, and he doesn’t see the point in paying for things like this when he could be putting money aside to buy Ciri that horse she talks about all the time. 

(Yes, he knows, he could simply ask Calanthe. It would provide the old woman with an occasion to boast about how much better suited she is at taking care of Ciri than him, and Geralt wants to avoid that at all costs. Ciri always gets uncomfortable, and his daughter’s comfort and happiness are the most important things in the world to him.)

As he drives home, he leaves Ciri’s pop radio on, hoping that the upbeat music will distract him enough from overthinking about the gift sitting next to him. Unfortunately, destiny likes to make fun of him, because three of Jaskier’s songs play on the radio, two as parts of a popular game, while the last one is Jaskier’s newest. Geralt knows all of Jaskier’s song, much more than he wants to admit it.

As soon as he is parked, it takes him barely a minute to get back into his apartment, locking the door for good measure despite the fact that they are the only people living on this floor. The apartment opposite from them has been empty for the last few months, and there is a special code to enter the building, the stairs, and the elevator. But still. This feels like a private moment, and he has the urge to close all the curtains in the apartment as well, just to be able to linger in the sweetness of the moment. 

The container sits in the middle of the kitchen table, and Geralt stares at it. He doesn’t know what he is waiting for. If he just reached out, just took the container and opened it… It’s for _him_ after all. It’s a gift from Jaskier, with all his _love_. Geralt should absolutely open it now. 

He reaches for it slowly, feeling under his fingers the lightly engraved wolf head, and he sighs. There is so little bravery in his whole body at the very moment. He is afraid that he will be disappointed with what is inside, or worse, that he will have no idea what it is, and won’t know what to say to Jaskier when he thanks him for what is, undoubtedly, a thoughtful gift. 

Groaning in frustration at his own cowardice, Geralt closes his eyes and grabs the container properly, twisting the lid open in a swift motion. The scent of chamomile fills the air. 

It is such a sweet surprise that Geralt can’t help opening his eyes again. A honey-coloured cream is in the container, speckled with small lavender bits, and he smiles a bit. Years ago, Jaskier used to buy him lavender and chamomile oils to help with his wounds whenever he came back a bit too roughed up after a boxing match. Lately, there has been much less boxing, but Geralt always has recurring aches from old matches, or from falls he took when he was a kid, before Vesemir took him in. Jaskier’s touch and the oils had always been the best remedy to any ache. 

He can’t believe it’s been over ten years and he hadn’t realized before that he was head over heels in love with Jaskier. And now that maybe, _maybe_ , there is a sliver of a chance that Jaskier feels something for him as well… 

Well. He simply has to make things as grandiose as he can. 

Five days later, he is finishing braiding his hair the way Ciri taught him when his phone vibrates on the shelf. He has put on his nicest pair of jeans, and a good shirt as well, but he still looks like himself, and not like “an obnoxious asshole going to a charity gala for the publicity of it all” like Yennefer had remarked on the previous outfit he had planned for today. He doesn’t know where he would be without her. Besides Jaskier, she is the person he feels the closest to. 

_“Flight is going to take off, can’t wait to be home and to see my bed again!”_ Jaskier says in his text, followed by a series of emojis, and as Geralt finishes reading, a second message appears. _“Oh, and to be with Ciri and you too of course!”_

Geralt chuckles fondly, turning back to the mirror to finish his braid properly, and then he takes a look at himself. He looks good, he thinks. There is only that jacket Jaskier had helped him buy last winter to put on and… Yes. There it is. Perfect. 

The navy blue jacket frames him in a way that, as a graphic artist, he can appreciate. While he knows it could also be a source of attention, what with his white hair fully out and his much more dressed look, he can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of what he is about to do. 

He checks one last time that everything is set up in the apartment before he goes to his car and starts on the hour and a half long journey. His phone vibrates a few times, and he knows that it can only be Yennefer and Ciri, who got along splendidly, sending him reminders and last minute advice. He’s grateful for their support and their presence, especially through the last few days. With Jaskier gone and this gift that had felt bigger than the world, Geralt would have sank without his friend and his daughter. He could have turned to his brothers of course, but Lambert would simply have laughed for the whole time, and Eskel’s advice wasn’t worth all of Lambert’s mockery. 

Once the car is parked, he hurries towards the arrival gate, checking for Jaskier’s flight. The plane is landing in fifteen minutes, which means that Jaskier will be by in about half an hour. He busies himself by reading a book he had brought for this very occasion; it has always been his opinion that it was better to be early and wait for somebody than late and make somebody wait on you. That, and it would have been absolutely indecent to be late today, of all day. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice calls out, tentative, half an hour later. “I thought you said it would be Yen who would pick me up? What are you doing here?” 

“Surprise?” Geralt says, a bit awkwardly and spreading his arms lightly, half-waiting for Jaskier to hug him, and he almost sighs of relief when the other man does hug him back. “I thought I could free my afternoon to come pick you up.” 

Jaskier coos and pats his cheek despite Geralt’s glare. “How sweet of you! Let’s go home now though, I’m quite eager to see how the old bachelor that you are has transformed our home!”

As is his habit whenever he comes back, Jaskier chatters about anything and everything for the whole ride back home. Geralt had gotten news from him every so often, but Jaskier hadn’t asked about the gift, so Geralt hadn’t either, and now he has to listen to Jaskier act as if nothing has changed between them. Still, Geralt knows him. He can hear the nervousness and slight fear in Jaskier’s tone, can read his anxiety from the slight drumming of his fingers on his thigh. If Geralt isn’t wrong, Jaskier is playing the rhythm of one of his favorite song, although he has never sold it. 

It had been the first song Jaskier had composed after university, and he had shaken his head when Geralt had asked if it would figure on his album. 

“It’s a song just for us! I would never sell it. It would be like selling my very soul, can you imagine?” 

Geralt remembers laughing back then, and now that he thinks on it again, he feels absolutely stupid. How did he not notice that he loved Jaskier then? Everything about him screamed it. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time,” Jaskier says on a faux-casual tone as he picks up his bag from the car’s trunk. “Everything alright?” 

Geralt startles and nods. “Sorry. Lost in my thoughts, but I’m glad to hear you’ve had fun in Oxenfurt. Your sister still dating her mysterious doctor?” 

“Yup,” Jaskier sighs. “And she still doesn’t want to tell me who it is! Can you believe it? Me! Her own brother!” 

Geralt laughs as they take the elevator, nerves returning the more they near the apartment. Soon, he will have an answer as to whether he was right about Jaskier’s feelings for him, or whether it was all made up. He doesn’t think he would be quite capable of convincing both Yennefer and Ciri that Jaskier loves him, but still. They could all be wrong. 

When they get to the door, Geralt steps behind Jaskier, who gives him an odd look. 

“Go on,” Geralt urges gently. “Open the door.” 

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Jaskier squints at him, suspicious. Geralt, is there a bucket waiting to be poured on my head? Because I already got plenty enough of rain in Novigrad and-“ 

“No, I promise, no prank.” Geralt bites his lips nervously. “Just. Open the door alright?” 

With a deep sigh, Jaskier unlocks the door and walks inside. He stops in the doorway, eyes looking around in confusion. 

Their living room has been rearranged into a large dining room, with a large space for them to dance. Jaskier loves to dance and he always complains that they never want to make space for him there. So Geralt did it. The only thing that matters to him is that Jaskier is happy. 

“What-Why.. Geralt?” He turns wide, confused eyes to Geralt. “What’s all this?” 

Geralt gently leads him inside and smiles, feeling a shy blush spreading over his cheeks. He repeated this, damn it. He knows what he has to say, what he _wants_ to say! And yet, confronted to Jaskier, who looks like he doesn’t dare being hopeful, he can feel the words slipping away from him. 

Taking a deep breath and gently holding Jaskier’s hands in his own, he starts. 

“I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve all the attention and care in the world. For thirteen years you have been my best friend, and I can’t imagine my life without yours. It took me a long time to realize it, but I love you. And it took me even longer to realize that you may have feelings for me too?”

Jaskier gasps, but Geralt keeps talking. 

“You got me something that you knew I would appreciate for my old injuries, you are my best friend, and you are the best roommate anyone could ever ask for. Ciri adores you like you are her own father, and I… I adore you. I love you.” 

Jaskier’s eyes are full of tears by the time Geralt is done speaking, and he waits for a beat before sniffling and wiping his eyes. 

“You fool,” Jaskier sobs and hugs him tightly. “You absolute fool. Of course I love you too. I have for years now!” 

“I didn’t want to hope and be presumptuous.” 

“Well be presumptuous and kiss me, Geralt,” Jaskier orders and Geralt obeys the command, capturing Jaskier’s lips in his own delicately. 

Geralt hadn’t dared to daydream about kissing him. Now, he feels like he was quite right to not imagine it. Because it compares in no way to any other kiss Geralt has had. Kissing Jaskier is the easiest, most natural thing in the world. He delves in for another, and another, and another, until they are both out of breath and giggling like teenagers. 

“So, I guess I should offer you products more often?” Jaskier teases, his nose pushing along Geralt’s jawline. 

Geralt laughs and pecks his lips again. “If you want. But there is no reason to bribe me.” 

“Right,” Jaskier nods happily. “In this case, may I?” 

He makes a sweeping motion towards the improvised dance floor and Geralt sighs. He should never have listened to Ciri. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays!


End file.
